Attacked by pirates in Oman- 2008 (language warning).
OK, I admit it — these “pirates” were only armed with rocks and knives, but they still attacked us while we were trying to conduct fisheries research for the Omani government back in 2008.
It was the first day of the survey, and I’d been sent outside to complete a CTD (Conductivity, Temperature and Depth) reading on the bow. As I lowered the sensor into the water, I looked up to see dozens of small boats racing towards us. As they approached, I naively thought they were happily waving at me (they were, in fact, frantically waving their arms). I casually waved back.
When they got closer, I could hear shouting and screaming, and it quickly became clear that this was not the friendly welcoming party I’d imagined. I hauled up the sensor as fast as I could and ran back to the wheelhouse as rocks flew past my head, missing by only a few inches. Inside, the onslaught continued and several crew members were hit with rocks and debris. We locked the doors and put the hammer down. A couple of them even managed to get onboard but later fell off the back of the ship.
We called the local coastguard and police and went as fast as we could, weaving from side to side and crashing into their small boats. They followed us for some time, threatening us with knives and making throat‑slitting gestures before finally giving up.
About a week later, after we handed the police the footage, they tracked down the pirates and arrested them. Because the country used Sharia law, we were asked how we’d like them punished. Options included stoning, whipping, or beating. We opted for a good telling‑off — after all, they were probably just pissed off that we’d turned up in their fishing grounds with a dirty great trawler.
We never saw them again for the remaining six weeks of the survey.
Check out my lightning reactions in the video — I wouldn’t stand a chance now.
Below that is the Al Mustaqila 1, although it was actually the Independent 1, which had sailed all the way from New Zealand to do the surveys before being renamed in Oman.
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What's the worst that can happen on holiday? California 2018
Well, certainly up there would be losing a passport! Throw in camera gear, lights, strobes, housings, bags, cash and much more getting stolen, and the situation isn’t great!
We’d been travelling across California, initially visiting the deserts and mountains in the Sierra Nevada, then up to Lake Tahoe for a work conference. After the conference we continued on to Monterey, where we planned to get some diving in. From Lake Tahoe to Monterey we drove through some stunning scenery, but a few areas were definitely a little sketchy. We were so paranoid about our gear (including a considerable amount of camera and dive equipment) that we never let the car out of our sight. Even when fuelling up, we’d tag‑team going into the shop or bathroom so someone always stayed with the car.
Things were going well — we’d seen some amazing places and had made it to Monterey for the next stage of our adventure. We arrived and pulled into the large carpark at the end of Cannery Row, just outside the world‑famous Backscatter camera shop. Immediately our guard dropped; it felt like a much less hostile environment. Kids were playing on the grass, divers were gearing up on the breakwall with equipment spread around the carpark, and spoilt pooches were racing about. Having been to Monterey before, I was excited to show Irene the otters and poke our heads into the wonderland that is Backscatter.
So, we risked it and walked the 50 metres or so to the water to spot the first otters, then had a quick look through the door at Backscatter — maybe 10 minutes in total. Then we headed back to the car to rendezvous at the Airbnb and meet our Kiwi friend Paul, who had come to dive with us. Full of excitement, we walked back to the car. I pressed the remote and Irene jumped in. I walked around the back of the car to see the absolute worst‑case scenario: window smashed, cameras gone, dive gear gone, underwater housing, laptops, lights, strobes — and worst of all, one passport gone.
I should say here, everything was completely hidden and not visible through the windows. There’s no doubt we’d been watched and followed to be targeted so precisely and quickly. I remember just lying on the floor, completely lost… no idea how we’d get out of this one.
We called 911 and waited. The cops were sympathetic but not much help, and certainly not optimistic about recovering anything.
The rest of the trip basically turned into a recovery mission — a drive to San Francisco to the Dutch Embassy for a new passport, endless calls to insurance companies and the NZ embassy, and a lot of time feeling sorry for ourselves. Accepting the loss after being so careful was a bitter pill to swallow.
I won’t expand too much further on how it all panned out, but the insurance did eventually pay out — we still ended up about 8k out of pocket. Some people helped soooooo much and brought some fun to a dire situation. George from Monterey Bay Aquarium was amazing and spent a whole day showing us every inch of the aquarium. Becca at Backscatter helped enormously with replacing camera gear. And last but definitely not least, Margaret and Rob down in Long Beach.
Margaret and Rob really saved the day (pictured to the left). I’d met them briefly on an earlier trip to California when we stayed at their place after a diving trip. When we were at the embassy in San Fran, they wouldn’t do anything unless we could provide a secure mailing address for documents. Out of desperation, I called my Californian friend Evan, who got me back in touch with them. They were incredible — welcoming us into their beautiful home while we sorted our mess out. I’m not sure what else we would have done.
I remember that San Fran day so clearly — we were absolutely exhausted and drove back to LA and Long Beach, arriving late at their place. We were miserable and shattered. We pressed the intercom and Rob said, “This is the New Zealand Embassy, what can we do for you?” Then the door opened and he and Margaret were standing there with cold beers for us. It was the first smile of the day and very much needed.
Anyway… I am now even more paranoid about leaving vehicles with gear in them — anywhere. And I always have insurance.
Margaret and Rob visited me in Tutukaka a few years later when they travelled around NZ.
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The first proper blackwater dive in New Zealand?
Back in about 2015 and 2016 we were on a roll. The Poor Knights were going off, the weather was great, and along with my best diving buddy Paul, we seemed to be finding new and exciting records at the Knights on almost every trip. We’d started to find some real rarities in the salp and even some species normally only seen elsewhere in the world on blackwater dives.
Blackwater dives are when divers jump into the ocean at night, in deep water (usually 100 metres plus, sometimes much more), and search for species that migrate to shallow water in the dark. Paul and I had seen amazing pictures from blackwater divers around the world — at the time, primarily from the Philippines, Hawaii, and off the coast of Florida. They were finding some truly magical creatures. If we were finding similar species during the day, then the nights in New Zealand must be equally, if not more, amazing.
The problem with NZ is the large, fairly shallow continental shelf that sits between 100–200 metres deep for around 30 nautical miles offshore. This is very different to the other locations mentioned above, where you can reach very deep water within a mile or so of shore. The deeper the water, the more likely you are to find amazing creatures at night. This was going to make blackwatering challenging in NZ. And what about the unknowns? Would we immediately run into intimidating or dangerous sharks, or even the very unpredictable broadbill? Who knew.
Anyway, after much procrastinating, the time had come to head out on my 5‑metre tinny, way beyond the Poor Knights — about 30 nautical miles out. We’d picked the weather perfectly: glassy calm. Due to a healthy level of paranoia, we’d built a makeshift cage to hang off the boat, with the idea that we could retreat into it if the shit hit the fan. So we waited, bobbing around in the middle of nowhere, for darkness to fall. Paul and I jumped in, immediately heading for the sanctuary of the cage in the pitch black.
Within minutes we spotted the first interesting critters — flyingfish, small starry toado pufferfish, and even some very small unidentified (at the time) octopus riding around on flotsam. As we got distracted by the cool critters, we began to venture out of the cage and into open water, always staying fairly close to it.
I began taking pictures of the flyingfish when I suddenly noticed bubbles rising from the depths below me… my mind started to race. What the hell could be causing these bubbles? Was something large attacking fish below me, rupturing their swim bladders and releasing air? I didn’t know, but it was definitely time to head back to the sanctuary of the cage.
Back in the cage, I kept shining my torch around, looking for anything of interest (or concern!). Now, to be clear, the cage was pretty makeshift — held together with cable ties and open on two sides. Just large enough for two people to stand in. As I stood there gazing around, I felt a thud on my leg. I looked down to see a very large Argonaut (paper nautilus) knock into my leg, then continue past me and swim off into the dark. These things are like hens’ teeth in New Zealand — at least live ones are — and I was absolutely kicking myself that I’d missed possibly my only ever opportunity to photograph these amazing octopus. Angry at myself, I plucked up the
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More yarns later 2
More ramblings coming later.
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More yarns later 3
More ramblings coming later.
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More yarns later 4
Placeholder text for Yarn 6. Add your story here when ready.
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